


Kind

by tiniestdormouse



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Mentorship, Mild Language, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestdormouse/pseuds/tiniestdormouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Break saw in Gilbert, and what he tried to do about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mashmallowpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mashmallowpumpkin).



> Written in an hour for mashmallowpumpkin. I hadn't gotten a chance to explore the relationship between Break & Gilbert, which has always intrigued me. This is certainly a start.

Xerxes Break was not instinctively a kind man, nor was he a generous one, though he had been accused of being both. By kindness, the usual definition was to show affection and consideration for others. By generosity, it was to serve people at the cost of yourself. Break showed physical affection frequently (at the annoyance of others) and was generous only when it served him well (in the long games he played with others who did the very same). But he still cared for certain things—only those things were so deeply buried nowadays they rarely showed to the average observer.

Truth being, the way Break cared about certain things was the way that an expert fencer wielded his blade: with cutting precision, giving no more and no less, and full of defenses and feints between each point made. In his former life as Kevin, he cared so much that he dripped with that cold loyalty, that rigid devotion. He cared so impeccably that he left a young girl weeping on the tombs on her parents, even as she begged for him to stay. He cared so insistently that he made dozens of people bleed and wither and die in his hands.

But one should always remember this point: Xerxes Break had the capacity to care as skillfully as he killed. 

Which explained why he treated Gilbert Nightray in that distant, instructive and provoking way of his. Because he cared so much about Gilbert’s well-being and Break – even after all this time, considering all of the terrible things he had done – was still a self-centered bastard at heart. He saw in Gilbert a softer, younger version of Kevin. A determined, moody, yet fearful version of himself, and because of his greater age and experience, Break knew that this youth was malleable and he had the power to save him from his own damned rigid loyalty and devotion. This was the very reason why he took every moment to prevent Gilbert from becoming as heartless as he.

* * *

The very first week at Pandora. Training session.

“Hand to hand combat? You’re weak and you’re flighty. You either get over that or you learn something else.” A scoff as Gilbert rose to his feet after the fifth fall, the bent foil in his hands. “Why should I expect better?” A hardwood case; two revolvers cloaked in velvet. “Assassin’s weapons,” Break explained as the teen’s eyes grew wide. “Only knights in fairy tales use swords anyway.”

* * *

 

Six months later. At the Rainsworth mansion.

“Vincent showed you the Raven? Finally, after all this time.” Break smiled, letting the teaspoon clatter into the china cup.   
  
“He gets nightmares going down into basements. It took me awhile to bring it up….”

“Poor boy. You must be a very kind older brother, to help him get over his fears.” A cracked smile as Break watched Gilbert stutter, his face redden and Break laughed. “Using the tools you have well, then.”

“I’m not—” Gilbert rose from the table, threw his linen napkin to the ground. “I’m not like tha—”

“Protests my sweet left eye after reporting all about Lord Nightray’s travels this summer. You’re a spy, Gilbert. You live to betray.”

“Shut up!” came the retort, and Break kicked his boots off the tabletop at the slamming of the dining room door.

* * *

 

His first year at Pandora. Gilbert’s shadow in the doorway of his office, slumped against the frame.

“You,” came the accusing voice and Break looked up from his paperwork (contrary to Reim’s grumbling, he did get some of it done. Usually late at night, when few were around the office and his insomnia kept Break awake).

Gilbert raised his head, and even in this lamplight, the white-haired man saw how drunk the youth was.

“Are they dead?” Break asked, calmly.

“You made me do it. You made. Me.” Leaning in the doorway, the Pandora uniform in disarray with street dirt and reeking of alcohol.

Break got up and grabbed the man’s shoulders as he slumped into his arms, Gilbert’s finger stabbing at his chest. “You never said… that…”

“It doesn’t matter now. At least they’re not in the Abyss. Try thinking of those angelic souls in heaven, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“And she was pregnant.” That was the moment Gilbert began to cry in earnest, trembling and hiccuping and sobbing hard enough for the tears and snot to ruin the front of Break’s coat. Break’s tightened his arms to steady him and got them both to sit on the divan. He remained quiet for a long time while Gilbert continued, feeling the place where sharp, stabbing pains should be if he still possessed a tender heart.

After awhile, Break leaned his chin on Gilbert’s head. “Hey, Raven,” he whispered. “Don’t forget what you did tonight. Don’t forget every time you pull that trigger, you made this hurt.”

Another hiccup, and a murmur raw from crying. “Bastard, why didn’t you tell me…?”

“This is what duty means. This is what responsibility means.” His voice soft, softer than Gilbert had ever heard it and Break knew he had to be gentle now, to make sure he can keep the boy away from the edge of shattering. “This is what loyalty can mean. Going into that horrible shit and smearing that all over yourself. Is it worth it?”

Gilbert didn’t answer and Break sighed. “C’mon, boy, let’s get you cleaned up.”

* * *

 

A winter morning, a slow day at work. The lights are flicking in all of the windowsills to welcome the darkest night of the year.

“Toffee?” He raised an eyebrow at the box shoved into his hands.

“For the Solstice,” Gilbert muttered, glancing away. “I heard from Lady Sharon that these are your favorite.”

“Oh, the Raven’s turned into a cook, hasn’t he? How deliciously common of you.” Yet Break felt strangely touched as he popped the treat in his mouth. “These are good,” he couldn’t help but say in surprise.

Afterward, every year like clockwork, a box of hand-made sweets was left on his desk, always after winter’s first snow.

* * *

 

That final calm before the storm. A park bench. A sunny day.

Break hadn’t seen Gilbert in months. The young man was usually sent on assignments and Break’s responsibilities at the Rainsworth household only increased as Lady Sharon started taking over the duties her mother once held. But he never forgot that promise he made to the boy in the woods those ten years ago. The pact they made where Break accepted a boy’s pure will and gentle spirit and in exchange forged it into iron and grit. Gilbert sat scowling because Break had left him waiting for half an hour.

The older man smiled,” Long time no see, Raven.”

When Break gave him that final warning – about the dangers of truth and loyalty and how Gilbert could be hurting the one he loved most with that deadly emotion – he wondered if it had all been worth it. Seeing this boy become a man over the years and how much he had tried to steer Gilbert’s course so it would not end up in flames. Did he succeed? Gilbert was a far more tender person than he ever was. At least that was accomplished.

Gilbert huffed away (as what usually happened during times like this), and Break recollected another moment a lifetime ago in the broad shoulders, firm step, angry tilt of his head –  _“Do not underestimate me!”_  came the memory of a recalcitrant white-haired boy and Break clenched his fists against the bench seat. _“I’m not,”_  he told the red-eyed ghost.

Gilbert left him alone on the bench, and a bitter chuckle escaped his lips.

“Please don’t be a fool like I was,” Break wanted to say, but the words died upon his lips. He cared too much to speak, and as Break painfully knew, wishes, once spoken, had the terrible possibility of coming true.


End file.
